The Hunger Games: Finnick Odair
by Zakaree Evans
Summary: Finnick Odair is a boy with devastating looks and an uneventful life, but when Annie and the Games come into play, nothing becomes uneventful. After Annie's brother is Reaped, to do the one thing he knows he must, he volunteers for him, to save him for Annie. He's thrust into Panem's spotlight, but time can only tell if the odds are ever in his favor...
1. Chapter 1

"There's no reason to worry, Finnick. It's not like you'll be in any danger if you do get picked. You're a fighter. You're resilient. You'd make it." Annie's words are kind, but they don't reassure me. This time comes every year, and as it approaches, my heart beats just a little faster. It's the time all of Panem falls silent, and shares in two brief moments of universal grief: The Reaping.

"It's not like they'll pick you, anyway. Your name isn't in nearly as many times as the older kids." She brushes her hair to the side and scoots a pebble across the sandy beach. Annie's not one to mince words. I hardly knew her before. At first it was innocent. A local girl, learning to make fish nets; not much younger than me. But as time went on, I found myself drawn to her. Now I can't stay away. Her words have little meaning, but I cling to each one.

I look her right in her eyes. "I'm not any of those things," I say. "I'm just a simple boy with a net and no way out of getting sent off to die for sport." She pats my shoulder and looks straight into me, not at me. "You're much more than that, Finnick. You're the smartest one at school, the best swimmer of all the boys at the fishing yard. Not to mention how the girls gawk when you walk by…" Her face rushes with a red pallor and she stares down into the sand. I can see her shake slightly as she lets out a giggle. She looks back up. "You're wicked with that trident," she says as she points to the weapon sitting next to me in the sand. "What's that gonna do for me?" I pipe up. "It's just for fishing. They never put tridents into the arena. Or nets," I say as I motion to the net sitting on the side opposite the trident. District 4 never really has any weapons in the games they're familiar with, and very little time to learn to use any others. The Career kids in our District still have trouble managing the change, only growing up with fishing tools, and not swords or flails.

"Still," she says, "I'd be willing to say that you'd do more than you think." A bell gongs in the distance from the old lighthouse that's been converted to our Justice Building. Annie and I look in each others eyes. The gong rings again. "It's time," she says, and we both get up from sitting and begin our long walk to the most dreaded day in all of Panem. The sand scorches my feet, but my heart is pounding in my ears so hard, I don't even notice as we approach the square and our feet step on the cobblestones.

The minute we hit the street, we're herded like cattle to our registry station. We're pushed along to the table. "I'll need a finger," the attendant says, and I hold out my hand. She takes a small, pen-like device and touches the end to my fingertip. A stab of white hot pain sears my finger, and she forcefully grabs my hand, and blots my finger on my registry paper. The red smudge, smeared with my fingerprint, stains my card. I read over it. 'Finnick Odair, 14, Blood Type: O +, Number of Tesserae Taken: 5". Every single detail of my life, they know from one drop of blood. Imagine what they could do with my word of mouth. The thought of it chills me to the core. A Peacekeeper grabs me by the arm. "Move along," he barks, and carts me off to my age group. The gate slams shut behind us. The shrieking metal slam marks the sound I've been dreading to hear all day: The sound of the impossibility of escape. I'm trapped in here, huddled together with every 14 to 18 year old in District 4, with no way out but a Peacekeeper's bullet if I try to run away. I'll take my chances with the reaping, I suppose.

The Justice Building's been completely decked out. Large monitors surround us. Speakers blare the anthem as our District Representative waltzes onto the stage. He staggers, walking to the microphone, stutter-stepping and giggling the whole way, decked out in a flower-print shirt, a straw hat, shorts, and all the latest Capitol trends in tattoos and jewelry. His hair's been colored a fire red, burning almost as much as the sun bearing down on us, and the redness of his cheeks. He's obviously been enjoying his stay and celebrating it at the bar. A Peacekeeper walks up, and grabs his arm, walking him to the microphone. The Anthem blares and all fall silent. Looks of stoic apathy to utter fear mix in the crowd. No one wants this. Anyone who acts like they do is just putting on a show.

"Hello, District 4, and Happy Hunger Games!" the little man, slightly drunk with the tattoos says. "May the odds be ever in your fa-" he slips, and nearly falls, but catches the arm of the Peacekeeper who brought him to center stage. He manages to get a firm plant back on the ground, straightens his flower print shirt and straw hat, and finishes his salutation of luck. You'd think a drunken representative would lighten the mood, but not a single person laughs. The watchful eyes of the Peacekeepers leer out over the crowd, waiting to silence anyone who interrupts the proceedings. Guns train on the crowd as Peacekeepers march up and down our streets. Their presence isn't welcomed, but it's feared, and forcibly tolerated. As if any of us could stop them.

As I stare at our representative, I can't help but notice that it's not the same one as the year previous. He's the new guy, and he's enjoying everything he can while he's in our District. He beings to speak, slurring and stuttering his speech. "As you can see, I-I, I am not the same person who stood on this stage last year. I've been assigned as her replacement. Never worry, though! Y-you all," he hiccups, "are in the best of hands. I am Gatticus Dominion, and from now on, you can see my shining face," he drunkenly touches his cheek, leaving a finger indention into his surgically altered, sunburned skin, "every year from here on out. And-and now, a special message from the Capitol, from our dear President Snow." The Anthem blares once again, and Gatticus drunkenly hoops and hollers at the top of his lungs, giggling and clapping like a fool.

The President's face has always repulsed me, but on Reaping Day in particular, it stands positively repugnant. He looks so smug. So sure of his superiority. The only thing I can't stand more than his arrogant, pale, wrinkled face and his white beard that nearly reflects light, is a rose he has pinned to his collar. The rose is a placid white, but on my closer inspection, I notice red droplets on the pedals. There are droplets on the corner of his mouth as well, the same ruddy color as the ones on the rose. A rose. A pure plant. Something that makes him so sure of his own "purity". It makes me sick to think that a man that condones sending children to their death is anything close to pure.

Even drunken Gatticus falls silent as the President speaks. "Thank you, District escorts, and now, I have a special message for the people of the Districts." His voice is like ice. It disgusts me so much I can feel my skin crawl. "Though this is not a special event, like the Quarter Quell," he says, "I felt the need to reach out to our beloved Districts, to show the feelings of adoration and closeness we all feel and share with them here in the Capitol around the time of the Games. As always, I must emphasize the importance of this occasion, and to do that, I will do as I always do: read from the Treaty of Treason." He clears his throat. "_In penance for their uprising, each district shall offer up a male and a female between the ages of 12 and 18 at a public "Reaping". These tributes shall be delivered to the custody of the Capitol, and then transferred to a public arena, where they will fight to the death until a lone victor remains. Henceforth and forevermore this pageant shall be known as 'The Hunger Games'." _Silence still overcomes the crowd. The President speaks again.

"The point of these Games, is not merely to show that you are all weak without us, but to show that every action must have consequence. Everyone must pay a price. And sometimes, that price runs as deep and thick as blood." The screen flashes the Seal of the Capitol, and the screen goes blank. There's a pause of silence, and Gatticus goes back to clapping and screaming cheerfully like an idiot.

After Gatticus finally realizes that no one else is clapping, he motions for them to bring out the glass balls with all the names of potential Tributes in them. In the brief bustle of motion, I notice someone's been staring at me across the way. Annie's gaze is fixed on me, and I shoot her a small smile. It seems to comfort her some. I can tell she's on edge. The girls always get picked first. As I try my best to give Annie some distant comfort, I feel another pair of eyes burning down on me. I swivel my head to my left, and spot the wall of muscle that is Annie's older brother, Breaker, staring me down. He's a clear foot taller than me, 18, with spiked black hair and a chip on his shoulder. He's the type of kid you'd expect to train for the Games. The kind that's sure of his dominance over everyone he looks at. Someone who always gets what he wants.

"Odair," he whispers in his acid tone, "whether or not we get Reaped, hands off my sister. You're to teach her only about fishing, and nothing else, or I swear, I'll end your little pretty boy streak with a massive face shot." I glare. If there's ever been anyone unpleasant in District 4, it's Breaker Cresta.

The bustle on stage ends as Gatticus sticks his hand into the ball on my right. He swivels it around, and extracts a paper slip, and unfolds it. He studies over it, and motions over a Peacekeeper. He's trying to talk away from the microphone, but his head's still close. "Can you come over here and tell me what this says?" he yells boisterously. "I can't see anything. My vision's as blurry as a bad view screen." The Peacekeeper walks over as the rest chuckle, and whispers in his ear. "Oh, oh, okay! Thanks, man!" Gatticus shouts, and turns to fully face the microphone. He gives time for dramatic pause. "Pearl Victoria!" he calls out. I can see a girl about my height walk up to the stage, her blonde hair in pigtails. She's about my age, maybe a year older, and she's crying her eyes out. Normally, we have all kinds of volunteers. No one says a word.

"Come, come! Say a few words to your fellow District citizens!" Gatticus booms and gives her a friendly, drunken slap on the back. Pearl muddles forward, and is sobbing profusely. She stares out into the crowd from behind the microphone, looks around, and immediately sends her head flying into her hands, crying her eyes out once again. A Peacekeeper brings her over to one area of the stage, where she stands, bawling away. Every boy in every section tenses up as Gatticus manages to slur out, "Now, the boys." His hand searches around in the ball, and I send a quick glance over. Breaker's got his serious face on, yet, I can sense something underneath all that stoic look. Something I can sense to my very core, as I see a bead of sweat roll down the side of his head: he's worried.

Gatticus withdraws another paper slip, and finally manages to read this name himself. The looks on two peoples' faces have the most effect on me as he calls out Breaker's name. I see Breaker's face turn sheet white, his mouth agape, and he's firmly planted into the ground. I'm in a state of shock, as I never thought I'd see Breaker ever afraid. The other look, the one that damages me, and effects me the most, is Annie's face. Her unnaturally pretty face contorts into a shrill cry as two Peacekeepers come to drag Breaker to the stage.

Breaker's struggling to get free, but they keep moving forward. "No, no!" he screams. "Please, please don't make me go! I don't want this! I wanna go back home!" No one really liked Breaker in the first place, so they all move and clear a path as the Peacekeepers drag him. I feel an odd sort of satisfaction as I see the big jock brought to humility, crying and screaming for his mother. The only thing that makes me feel the least bit bad is Annie, who's on her knees, crying into her hands.

For the first time in my life, I'm torn. I look at Breaker, see how he's acting, and I'm satisfied that his ego bubble's finally been busted by a heavy dose of reality. I can see him cry, and shriek like a baby as he's almost to the stairs leading to the stage, and then I see Annie, crying away. I see the sadness in her heart, and it tears me up inside. So much that I realize how I've truly felt about Annie for the longest time. So much, that I decide to do something crazy. As Breaker and the Peacekeepers make it to the top step, and run out through the cleared path. "I volunteer!" I scream. "I volunteer!" Annie shoots straight up and stares at me, her mouth wide open. The Peacekeepers release Breaker, and he's still sobbing, and wiping the snot off his face. "You're alright, Odair." he mutters, as they take him back to the crowd. I walk up to the stage, and Gatticus puts his arm around me, mostly to appear friendly, but mainly for balance.

"Well look at this brave, handsome man!" Gatticus says into the microphone. His face is so close to mine, I can smell the liquor on his breath, and I scrunch my nose in disapproval. I look out into the crowd, and all I can focus on is Annie's face. She's smiling at me, and her mouth is quivering. She's still crying, but she manages to mouth 'thank you', and blows me a kiss. Gatticus gives me a friendly shake with his arm around me. "What's your name?" he says, and angles the microphone towards me. "Finnick Odair," I say shakily. "I bet you're quite the ladies man, son! Go ahead, give us a look see! Lose the shirt!" I look at Gatticus, and give him a glare. He whispers to me, with all his liquored breath, "Look, kid. You-you may wanna flaunt what you got. It could mean you coming home alive, so I'd do it." As much as I hate to do anything a drunk man tells me to do, he's right, so I strip my shirt off and throw it to the stage floor. I turn to face the crowd, and see several girls start to whisper, point, and smile among themselves. I can hear the words, "sexy" and "gorgeous" thrown around by more than fifteen. I couldn't disagree more. I'm nothing special. If anything, I'm an idiot for volunteering to die in the place of the brother of a girl I have such strong feelings for. No one prizes care and affection over survival. Well, no one but me, apparently.

"I think that he's going to receive a lot of sponsors, don't you ladies?" Gatticus booms, and a few give out cheers. Others just gawk and smile, mouths wide open. Another one mouth to me, "I'll be sending you gifts, cutie." I feel like a trophy, and I hate it. I've always hated being the center of attention, and now, I'm center stage, shirtless, being gawked at by around a thousand or more girls my age, and countless numbers of Capitol girls, and I can't help but feel as if I'm under a microscope. Gatticus leads the girls in a round of applause and finally staggers back to the microphone, and goes over the other reapings. I watch as a massive boy from District 2 practically sprints to the stage, following a girl that looks like she could clean and jerk a small boulder. I see a devastatingly gorgeous girl from 1, and a stocky, mustached boy from the same District saunter to the stage, smiling and waving as they beat everyone else to volunteer.

There's a stocky, dark-skinned boy named Porter from 6. He's short and to the point, but nice enough. Perhaps he'll be bearable enough to get to know before I have to try to kill him. His District partner that was reaped is a scrawny, ashen-skinned girl named Lisa, with long, flowing, scraggly blonde hair. The two Tributes from 3 are twins. A rare phenomenon. The male Tribute from 11, named Fielder, is tall, dark-skinned, and starved to the point of disillusionment. His ribs poke through the ratty shirt that clings to his frail body. The female, Magnolia, is short, stocky with muscle, and sullen. She hangs her head as she walks forward to the stage.

The Tributes from 12, the boy called Don, and the girl, Mary Jo, look at each other and exchange worried glances. Other than their worry, the boy looks strong, and has the look of a boy who can swing a mining implement with deadly effect. It's his last year, so he's just started work in the mines. I'll be sure to watch out for him in the arena. I don't commit any of the others names or details to memory much, and only focus on the Tributes who either look the strongest, weakest, most reliable, or deadliest. Fielder from 11 and the large wall of a boy from 2, burn into my memory instantly. Fielder's gaunt appearance is almost frightening, and I pity him instantly. The one from 2, as I listen more carefully, is named Tiberius, and he has the look of a typical Career. Strong, determined, arrogant. The girl's named Olga, and she already starts demonstrating her strength by taking her District representative's car and lifting the back end a clear 6 inches off the ground. The Peacekeepers escort her into their Justice Building, and the screen flashes to another reaping. One after the other, we see our enemies. Then we're ushered into our Justice Building, and made to sit. "You get visitors, and only 3 minutes with each," a Peacekeeper says. "Make them count."

Pearl looks at me and says, still wiping away tears, "I hope you get plenty of visitors. You're a nice boy." I give a thank-you nod and walk into the visiting room when I'm called. My first visitor, surprisingly, is Breaker. He walks into the room, and stares at me for a second. Sizing me up, I suppose. He's always judged me, in any way possible, to get me away from his sister. I already realize she's out of my league. He made it a point to make it a daily revelation. The next thing he does, surprised me more than when he was reaped. He grabs me, and bear hugs me, picking me up off the ground, and walks out of the room after he puts me down. I wait for another few minutes, and my teacher from school comes. Next, the neighbors that I stayed with after Mom and Dad passed. Finally, the one I'd hoped for comes in. Annie.

"Annie, I-" I start, but she puts a finger over my mouth. "Just listen," she commands, "I have something to say." I obediently wait as she clears her throat. "Out of all the most brazen, most stupid, most…" she pauses, "sweet things, that anyone's ever done for me, that was by far on the top." I start to speak again, but she silences me once more. "No one likes Breaker. He never gives anyone a reason to like him. Especially not him. He's defensive, arrogant, and rude." I can't help but agree. "But he's my brother. No matter how bad he is, he's my brother. What you did, I'll never forget." She wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses me right on the mouth. I'm taken aback, and a Peacekeeper comes in and escorts her out. Funny, I always thought my first kiss would be a bit more romantic than this.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2:

I feel alone. For the first time since my parents passed away, I feel alone as Annie leaves the room and the further away she gets, the more alone I feel. I stand shell-shocked at what just happened to me. I can still feel where she kissed me. I touch a fingertip to my lips and look down at the floor, trying to come back from the reeling she just sent me on. She has the most effect on me. She'll never understand how I feel.

After I finally snap back to reality, a Peacekeeper hurries in the room and grabs me by the arm, dragging me to a car sitting behind the Justice Building. I'm pushed into the backseat next to Pearl, who is still drying her tears. She mumbles through sobs, "Never again. I'll never see them again." She's totally inconsolable. Hysterical, even. You can see the fear in her wide, big brown eyes.

She leans into the window, screaming and crying for the 5-minute ride it takes us to reach the train where we'll be carted off to the Capitol. A Peacekeeper yanks me out of my side, shoving me onto the platform, along with Pearl, where Gatticus is waiting for us. "Hurry up," he slurs angrily, "Get in the train. I-I'm ready to get home, and I have a massive stomach ache." He hurries us into the train, and we sit down in two chairs in the middle of our car. Pearl takes one last look out of the train door before it seals shut. She goes back to her hysterics.

Just then, I detect motion from the doorway leading to the other car. An older woman walks through the door, with her short, curly white hair shining like the sun. She's missing her teeth, and she seems to walk with a slight limp. She radiates happiness, though, which is welcomed to accompany the current circumstances. She walks over to us, and extends her hand. "I'm Mags," she says, and I shake her hand. "Your mentor." She takes one look at Pearl, and her kind, sweet demeanor turns firm. She brings her arm back and slaps Pearl. "Stop that!" she demands. "Get a grip on yourself!"

Pearl immediately quits her crying, but her mouth hangs open in shock. She grabs the newly-made red handprint on the side of her face, and gives Mags a sound that sounds like a mixture of disbelief and slight anger. Mags immediately embraces her, and tries to reason with her. "You have to get a grip, child. There can't be any more of that. You've already given them a show. They're going to underestimate you. They're going to make you a target, but you have to get this locked down. Now you've got to act like you don't have a thing in the world left to lose. Do you understand?" Pearl nods, and embraces Mags the same. "I'm tired of seeing my Tributes come home in boxes," Mags says. "This year, one of you is coming home as Victor. I don't care how you get it done, just come home." We both nod, and Mags releases Pearl. Mags sits in the chair across from us, and gives us quizzical looks, studying us. Searching for the most minute flaws, the most specific and unnoticed things about us. She looks up and down for weaknesses and strengths.

Her gaze shifts back to me. "Well," she starts, "I think we can obviously what your advantage is. You've got a pretty face. A face everyone wants to see. You're eye candy. That'll only get you so far in the Arena, then that pretty face won't help you when someone's hacking it off with an axe. What else can you do?" I'm taken aback. I have no idea what to say. Such a sweet old woman, but she's so blunt. As hard as it is to imagine, though, I like her. I look at her and search myself for any talents I think I might possess. I'd be lying if I say I had any, though. I honestly don't think I have anything special. So I settle for the obvious. "I can swim," I respond.

"So can every child in District 4," she retorts. "Come on, give me something we can work with. Any specialties? What do you use when you help them fish at the docks?" My mind immediately flashes to what I use to fish every single day, working with the fishermen who send off most of our food to the Capitol: my trident.

"Well, the fishermen down at the docks say I'm pretty handy with a trident." Mags mulls over my answer, and nods in approval, flashing a small, toothy smile. "Good, good. That means you can use any weapons similar to that. Pikes, spears, staffs, what have you. If you're a fisherman's apprentice, that also means you know how to make hooks. There's one source of food already. Not to mention nets. You can catch food and other Tributes with those. Like fish to be gutted." Mags nods at her own words and then looks over at Pearl.

"And what exactly can you do, deary?" she asks. Pearl thinks for a while. She finally says, "Well when I went to the Academy, they made me pretty good at using a knife. I'd always been good at cutting things since they used me to help clean fish in the markets." Mags smiles in approval. "Good," she replies, "You're gonna need that, and a heart of stone when you get in that arena. No regrets, no mercy. Make them think you're weak, but if you get the chance, show them how deadly you can be." Pearl says nothing, but nods. You can tell she's one of those rare kids from the Academy that never wanted any part of this. A Career that's trained for battle, but wishes for peace. Someone never made to be a Career in the first place. Luckily, I never went. I guess I just have a natural ability to kill efficiently. At least, I do with fish.

"I'm gonna have a word with your instructors over at the Academy whenever one of you and I get back here." She looks at Pearl, and adds "They clearly need to teach better methods of fear management." Mags gets up, and walks back through the door leading to the other car. Gatticus stumbles through the room, still drunk, and the train takes off at lighting speed. "Wake me when breakfast is ready," he mumbles, and staggers off to his room. Pearl and I look out the windows as we watch our beloved home fade in the distance. We look back at each other, and know instantly that there's no turning back now. We're completely reliant on each other, until the only thing we can rely on is sheer aggression and will to survive. We know that we may be allies, and District partners, but the moment we hit the Arena, we're enemies. Even if we form an alliance, it can never be permanent. One must live, the other must die. I don't want to kill her, and won't if I don't have to. I'm just afraid the odds won't be ever in my favor when it comes to this.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3:

I glance out the window as I see the beach fade behind the sight of large pine trees. The train is zipping by through a part of Panem I've never even laid eyes on before until now. I grip the arms of my chair tightly as I watch my home disappear in the distance. If any of this were a dream to begin with, it's definitely a reality now. The further from home, the more I realize how critical the next days become, but I realize something else as well. The further I am away from home, means I'm further away from Annie. I feel hollow inside at the thought of being away. Almost like the shell of the boy I used to be, which, to me, wasn't much to begin with anyway.

My thoughts instantly return to the gravity of the situation. I'm on a train, bound for the Capitol. In exactly two days, I'll be thrust into Panem's spotlight once again, dolled up and primed to "perfection". In the weeks following, I'll be trained to fight, to survive, and to kill. The person I was when I got on the train can no longer exist, so long as I plan to secure my survival. I can't be soft anymore. I have to be hard. Yet, I still can't keep my thoughts off Annie…

"Finnick?" I hear a soft and shallow voice trill as a light knock was rapted. I turned my profile at the door, then back into the light, almost bearing a disjointed feeling to my eyes." Uh. Yes? Who is it?" I ask, my breath laying heavy on my still bare chest. "It's Pearl…" Her voice grows softer and still carries that hint of blunt hysteria as she pushes on the door handle. I could almost question the aggressiveness, but as she bashes though the room to ensnare me into an emotional hug, all I can try to do is calm her down from sobbing tears down my back. "Umm… It's ok…" I'm taken aback. I have absolutely no idea what's going on, other than that this hysterical girl is losing it on my shoulder. Her tears are running down the back of my neck, and the warmness of each one is almost as disconcerting as being ensnared by a hysterical girl without a shirt, in a bedroom far from home. I've never been one for a situation like this, but, if it influences my survival in any way at all, I'll be glad to console her.

"Here, sit down," I say, and help her sit down on my bed. She lets go, and takes a seat next to me. She's stopped the crying, but she's looking straight into my eyes now. It's almost like she's looking _into_ me, not _at _me. She keeps gazing, and finally says, "What are you all about, Finnick Odair? The pretty boy. The District's most prized boy-toy. Yet, I can tell, you don't want that. You don't want that at all…" She slides her hand on top of mine. I quickly scoot it out from underneath her. "Look, Pearl," I pipe up, "I realize you're upset, but, let's not do anything _drastic_…" She pulls her hand away and places them on her lap, but she keeps her razor-like stare focused on me. She locks eyes with me. They're almost like large, brown discs inside her head. "I never really get noticed back home..." she breaks her gaze and looks at the floor. "I crave attention… I crave love. Yet I get none. You, though… I can't tell you don't want any of that. You want to be out of sight, out of mind, but let's face it, Finnick… That's an impossibility for you…" She starts crying again. The poor, neglected girl, Reaped, with no friends or no family to speak of. All alone. I quickly hug her again, attempting my best to reassure her.

She pulls closer and whispers, "It's almost not fair…" Though I can hear the self-pity in her voice, I can detect the slightest hint of another tone. A tone that will give her an edge in the Games, should we ever square off: Envy. Envy of my unwanted popularity. Envy's been the motivator of many killings since the begging of humanity. It wouldn't be any different for Pearl. Knowing this, I have an immediate distrust for her. I think to myself, _"There's no way Pearl would betray me. I'm all she has left of home here."_ I realize thoughts like that are dangerous, but Pearl doesn't have much to lose, and I'm not on the docket for her to easily give up. I have to keep an eye on her, nonetheless.

She needs something no one's ever given her before. Something she's craved and needed her entire life. If it ensures our chances of survival just a bit longer, and if I can do one good thing before I have to completely harden myself to anything else, I'll give her what she wants: a friend. I keep her in a hug as she cries and sobs profusely. It doesn't show any signs of stopping soon. After about an hour, she finally brings her head up off my shoulder. Once again, she uses her piercing gaze to lock eyes with me. That same penetrating stare that saw right through me. It's eerie, really. "…I just don't know what to think," she says through small sobs. "I have no one. No one that cares, anyway…" Her voice trails off, as if she's seen the darker side of life when it comes to those she cares about. I can see it in her chocolate brown eyes. She's been abandoned. Abandoned, shunned and forgotten by the children at the Academy, and from the way she's crying, I'd be willing to bet her family, as well. I can't stand for it, not any longer.

"Yes you do," I say quickly. "You have me. I know it seems sudden, maybe even like I'm pitying you, or saying this to make you feel better, but I'm not. We're District partners. We're all we've got out there. It's just us and 22 other kids, each one more bloodthirsty than the last. We've got to stick together. You've got a friend, Annie. Me." She hugs me and smiles, her face streaked with tears. After an hour of her confiding in me, down to the very last detail of her life, I escort her back to her room. I can't believe how unstable this girl is. The fact that anyone left her to feel unwanted, unloved, is sheer infuriating. The walk back to my room is a short one, but in the time it takes me to get back to my room, I feel like I've walked a thousand feet. This has been so exhausting. The Reaping, consoling Pearl, being away from Annie… I can't handle it anymore. I open the door, slam it shut, then flop down on my bed. I shut my eyes and try my best to make my mind go blank as I drift off into sleep in the moonlight beaming into the train through my window.

The sunlight splashes my face and I clench my eyes tighter, not want to wake up. A hard _BANG_ on my door jolts me up and out of bed. "Up, now, Odair!" I hear Mags cry. She opens the door and gives me yet another smile. "You think the Tributes from 2 are still in bed? No, they're planning ways to kill you. Now, have some breakfast, dearie. You have a big day ahead." She flashes another smile and closes the door behind her. I'm not really sure what to think of Mags yet, but, I'm starting to like her bit by bit. She's blunt. I like that.

I slip on a shirt from the dresser in my bedroom and come outside. Gatticus is at the table with Mags and Pearl. His fire red hair has turned to a sickly green, much like his skin. He's got on a pair of sunglasses and a thin white shirt. He's got his head in his hands. A cold compress is wrapped around his head. "I'm never, ever, drinking again…" he mumbles. Mags fills up a small metal cup with coffee, turns it back, and slams it on the table. Gatticus tenses up and his face looks like he's just heard a thousand nails tear across a chalkboard. Mags refills her coffee and smiles at him as the cup rises to her mouth. "Now there's no need to lie," she trills sweetly. "After all, drinking is… _all the rage_, in the Capitol, isn't it? Like those silly tattoos and your wild hair." Gatticus is glaring at her behind his dark sunglasses and his green hair gets a reddish tint to it. I've never seen anything like it. It changes color with how he feels. How can _anyone _think that looks good? The people from the Capitol are, for lack of a better word, odd.

A small man comes in and whispers in Gatticus' ear. He quickly scurries out of the room, and Gatticus stands up to grab a cup of coffee as Pearl and I munch on some bacon and biscuits. "The train will be arriving at the Capitol a day early," he says. "Oh, and Mags, have you thought about getting teeth? They're… _all the rage_ in the Capitol as well." He gives a sadistic grin. Mags merely nods and smiles. "I'll consider getting them," she says, "when you all get normal hair."

Pearl and I are trying our best to contain our laughter, but we can't hold it in. We both give snorts and giggles as Mags grins triumphantly. Gatticus gives her a smirk, and walks out of the room. Mags clears her throat. "Now then, down to business."

Mags puts her hands on the table as Pearl and I quit shaking with laughter. She looks at us both, and speaks to us directly. "Once we get to the Capitol, I want you both to do as much as you can to attract sponsors. Wave and smile from the window, blow kisses. Finnick," she looks at me, "give a hair flip, take off your shirt, do anything sexy. Gatticus didn't lie, even though the poor sod was drunk beyond composure. You're handsome. You might as well flaunt it. It'll get you sponsors."

Why does everyone call me that? I can't see it, yet everyone else acts like it's hanging over me like some pungent stench. All the girls at the Reaping, Gatticus, they all say I'm handsome. I don't see why, when there really isn't anything that special about me at all. I can swim, I can spear fish with tridents, ensnare them with nets, but other than that, I'm about as deep as a drying puddle on a sidewalk. At least, it seems that way to me.

Nevertheless, I nod and agree. Mags goes on about the dangers and benefits of fire, different types of weapons that are normally thrown into the Cornucopia, and the basics of outdoor survival. I take in every word, locking in different tidbits and expanding on things I already thought I knew. "Constant vigilance in the Arena," she cries. "Whether you're asleep or awake, always be armed. Too many a Tribute has been caught with their pants down when the time came to put up a fight." She picks up a knife from the dining car table and hurls it into the wall. Pearl and I jump out of our seats, startled.

"See that? You weren't expecting that. You have to learn to expect everything. From the moment you set foot in that Arena, you're never safe. Ever." She gets up, pulls the knife free from the wall, and returns with a smile on her face. "I have a great deal of faith in you both. Pearl, you've locked down unnecessary emotion quickly. You'll need that. Finnick, other than your appearance, you have a great advantage. Knowledge of fish, net weaving skills, even skills with spear-like weapons. If you don't rake in sponsors, it will greatly surprise me." She gets up and gives me a quick pat on the shoulder. "I'll be in my room. We'll be reaching the Capitol sometime today so, prepare to be swamped with onlookers." She looks at me. "And Finnick, deary, do work the crowd. You'll be doing a lot more of it after you get there. Trust me on that."


End file.
